My time in Amsterdam was great. I is a bike-topia, judder of cobblestones aside. The streets are full of beautiful girls upright on uma fiets, gentles rises of canal bridges. I didn’t do much in Amsterdam, visit museums or sights. I got what I needed, relaxation in a beautiful place with friends old and new, a return to hedonism after a brief time touring, much food, beer, cider, smoke and laughter. Long picnics in Vondel park, being a gang of cyclists, “lets go surfing!”, that pedals from market to sunshine street bar to park, to large couch and wood floor apartment. It was great to see Toby and Sonya, and I am inspired by their exemplary lifestyle. My initial loneliness in the city was interrupted by them, their friends, and my neighbors at the campsite. At Zeeburg camping, I do washing, mend holes in my mattress, tighten nuts and bolts shaken loose by stoney streets. I am given a new spoke in a great example of dutch generosity. Buy maps, and drape all my sink washed clothes over my tent to dry in the sun (their weight bends and pulls it into a weird shape)
I really like Amsterdam, and could, consider it a home. Perhaps importing vintage racers, which there seems to be a lack off, and re-spraying the old dutch ladies bikes in bright colours for summer.